The Greatest Villain Of Them All - TGVOTA
by Caasi
Summary: "I knew my superiors would think me mad. They would think I had lost my head, that my brain had gone down the drain, but I couldn't—to leave this dimension like this, with such potential, a world already fated to be abandoned by ours. If the paths are to be permanently closed, who was I to deny them a chance of victory?"
1. Prologue

How Tom Riddle Became The Greatest Villain Of Them All

Prologue

"I knew my superiors would think me mad. They would think I had lost my head, that my brain had gone down the drain, but I couldn't—to leave this dimension like this, with such potential, a world already fated to be abandoned by ours. If the paths are to be permanently closed, who was I to deny them a chance of victory? Say what you want, since I'm doing what I will—I do try to avoid hypocrisy—that better dead than red, as the saying goes. But I can't agree, not only against communists, I dare say even now. However, this isn't a blind bet. I met the kid, the one that one day is supposed to grow up to be one of the worst Dark Wizards of all time. But this lad didn't strike me as that. He was different, clearly. Not just a parallel version, but an alternate too. I saw it, some of those trademark traits I know ours possessed. A hunger and ambition coupled with the clear desire to dictate. But I saw other things too—alien to what we think and know of that infamous, wicked man. After meeting the kid, I made my choice."

-James Holsher, a Post-mortem Diary of an Interdimensional Gate Keeper

* * *

James Holsher was approaching an orphanage, one that he had his eyes on for some time. Four days had gone by since he had first felt the usage of magic. It wasn't a common ability, but neither was it too special. Back home, a world where wizards had built to themselves a longstanding society through the ages, the skill to detect magic was less of an asset, but as a scavenger on the outer dimensions where magic could be either scares or even rare, it was incredibly useful. It was, in fact, while performing this job under the Ministry that he had found others who shared this curious ability with him.

As he pressed down the doorbell, he took a moment to arrange is clothes, taking off whether dust he could find. He prodded his coat too more than once, finding each time his wand safely stored within. It was funny to be so anxious at meeting a 15 year old. It felt both deserving and silly, since the person he was about to properly meet was a boy who shared his name with another man, one from his home dimension who had done great things. Well, terrible too, obviously, but great.

A young woman in an apron came to the door, and she eyed James with the utmost suspicion. She looked around him as if expecting one more person, or perhaps someone else entirely. James concluded she wasn't used to receive lonely men at the doors wanting to adopt. He supposed it even gave off the wrong impression.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Hudson." James offered a smile, but she didn't seem convinced.

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

"Well, we spoke on the phone last week. I'm Mr. Holsher." He told her, offering a handshake and setting his eyes on hers. They were sweet, the archetypical kind you would find on young, idealistic women. James had learned a bit about Ms. Hudson, and he knew she was a good person.

She took it with suspicion, but her eyes lost their keen the longer she stared at James' stare. "Yes… I suppose, but Ms. Smith has gone out and—"

"It will not take long. I told you, remember? I only need to talk to Tom for a few minutes, Tom Riddle. I will be on my way then."

Muggles, those with a strong mind, could resist Confundus, but even then little could even the most headstrong do to stand up against the spell their first time. James himself was a good wizard, meeting the minimum requirements to set foot out of his home dimension, and he found himself impressed at the fight Ms. Hudson was putting up. But alas, she finally gave in.

"You came in a good time, Mr. Holsher. He just brought Alice from school." She said as she guided James up the floors.

"Alice? A girl from the orphanage too, I suppose?"

"That would be right. She is also the only person he listens to." Ms. Hudson shared with a sigh. "He can be quite stubborn."

"Would that be how you describe him?" James asked.

The young woman stopped midway her step up the staircase, and she turned her head slightly.

"What is your interest on Tom, Mr. Holsher?"

James had trouble believing, but it seemed she was already escaping from his spell. He managed to make her look his way and set his eyes on hers once again.

"Very few individuals find enough discipline to self-study at home. Tom has attracted my attention. I think the young lad has future. Think of me as an investor."

He knew she wasn't entirely under control, but it was enough. She started walking up the stairs again, and he followed closely.

"How did you come to know of him?" she inquired.

"He sent me a letter."

"A letter? Who sends letter these days?"

James shrugged. "I have the impression Tom has a flair for dramatics."

Ms. Hudson nodded. "That he does. I suppose that is a good way to describe him too."

They stopped in front of a door at the end of a dusty corridor on the third floor. By the other doors positioning, it didn't seem as if the rooms had a lot of space.

"This is the boy's floor," Ms. Hudson told James, catching his less than impressed look at the uncleanliness, "They were supposed to have cleaned it last Sunday."

She made to knock on the door, but James held her hand by her wrist. She was taken slightly by surprise, and James realized his heart was beating faster. 'This is just a kid', he thought to himself, 'He never even went to Hogwarts'.

"Could you describe him to me, what you think of Tom? This is important, I assure you." James whispered.

She seemed conflicted, but James realized it wasn't about the effect of his Confundus. It was, in fact, something else entirely. They held their eyes on one another and Ms. Hudson stole Tom's door a look. James executed a silent charm, one that would keep Tom from possibly overhearing them, if he so tried.

"He's odd." Ms. Hudson whispered.

"And?"

"Strange things happen."

"This is a strange world, Ms. Hudson."

"It's not like that," she whispered, "it doesn't fit anything. I've heard about them, read a few things too. I thought he was one, but—"

"Doesn't quite fit in?" James interjected, and Ms. Hudson looked at him again apprehensively.

"I hope not. The gangs would know. Eventually they would know, and the orphanage—"

"You are a brave woman, Ms. Hudson. Despite the danger you still kept him."

"Well," she said, her cheeks slightly rosier, "Alice wouldn't do without him. He also manages to keep the orphanage in order."

"How so?"

"They listen. It's somewhat… unsettling however."

"Anything bad ever happened?"

"No. That it did not."

James gave it a second, holding her eyes on his before knocking himself on Tom's door. He heard footsteps on the other side and the door unlocked itself. James noticed he hadn't heard anymore foot steps however.

Ms. Hudson made a motion for him to get in, "Tom, you've got a visitor."

James entered the room, and he noticed Ms. Hudson pulled the door almost to a close, but still left it open. James made sure, with a slight twitch of his fingers, that they wouldn't be overheard. When he turned, he found a boy sitting on the other side of the room. Books pilled over, with a notebook in front of him while he held a pen on one of his hands.

The kid was pale, and dark-haired. He wasn't however, what you would expect of other 15 years old. His room was impeccable, even more so if compare to the corridor. His hair combed over his head in a deliberate way, and though he was dressed casually, he could see the boy fitting along an older crowd. When he left his chair, James saw that the kid also had posture, somewhat imposing even, but James could be sure if it was his bias that caused such impression.

"I apologize, but you are?" Tom asked.

James managed to smile. Suddenly his anxiousness gave way to a more adventurous feeling. He knew he usually did a storm over a glass of water, but once he got into it, it became much easier.

"You've certainly never heard of me."

Tom frowned at the comment, "I suppose. It is hard to know those who don't introduce themselves."

James crossed the room and offered him a handshake, which Tom took gingerly. "James Holsher, a pleasure to officially meet you, Mr. Riddle."

"The same, I suppose." Tom said, and James knew the kid's eyes were on him. Not just as a kid, but as something else. As a predator who had just received a prey in his lair. "Why you've come?"

James didn't answer immediately. He turned away from Tom, and looked around the boy's room. "You might want to take a seat."

Tom didn't seem happy to be taking advice on his own bedroom, but he obliged. James felt he was intrigued, though by what he wasn't as sure. He had a couple of theories. The boy took his seat at his chair, and James took the liberty of sitting at Tom's bed.

"So?" Tom asked.

"To start, how do you do?" James asked impishly.

Tom raised an eyebrow, "Unnerved. Strangers in my bed isn't really part of my preferences."

"Strong preferences, you think you have them?"

"I have strong priorities."

No doubt. If something isn't to change, that would certainly be it, wouldn't' it?

"And by which means you will achieve them?" James asked more intently, his smile gone.

Tom frowned, and James believed he was catching on. "Whatever means necessary."

"Even when it is unfair? Even when you have something no one else has?" James inquired further, and Tom froze. The boy looked at James under a new light, much more defensive in James opinion.

"You are not from the Protectorate. You are taking me away?"

"Come on, Tom. You think we would still be here if that was the case?"

"I wouldn't make it easy for you, so yes." Tom shot. But at the lack of James' response, Tom continued with a annoyed pout, "So I'm a parahuman?"

"Can you do things others can't? Perhaps then, perhaps not."

Tom shook his head, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ironically, we are something far more natural, Tom, far more beautiful. Far less incisive too."

"We?"

"We—us, wizards."

"Wizards?"

James nodded at Tom. "It is magic that we can do."

Silence took over as neither Tom or James made motion to fill it with something else. Tom seemed to be mulling it over, while James was simply enjoying Tom Riddle's reaction. The Tom Riddle from his world would certainly have behaved in a different way, but it was still entertaining.

"I'm special, then. I knew I wasn't that simple. But you… prove it. Prove you are a wizard." Tom manage to veil the order as a request, but the wording gave it away. Still, James complied. He took out a wand from his coat, pointing to downwards and twisting it carefully.

"Expecto Patronum." He voiced it low, and a small gazelle came out of white clouds, circling around James and eventually stopping in front of Riddle. His eyes were set on the magic, on the eyes of that impossible animal, and they shone with wonder. He was smiling now, and his expression had turned less cold. He seemed more of a kid now, James realized.

"Where can I get one of those?" Tom asked, his eyes on James' wand.

James' shrugged. "That's impossible."

"What?" Tom asked incredulously.

"You are the first wizard I find in this world. There isn't really a wand maker you can find around these parts."

"Wait—world?"

James shrugged, "I come from a world where wizards are somewhat common. Not a lot of us, but enough. It makes me think you aren't from here too, though I'm certain you aren't from mine. I would know."

Tom seemed to sink on his chair, but it wasn't long before he raised his voice. "Can I come with you? And then return—"

"By my laws, I suppose I can take you back, since you are already an Interdimensional traveler. Actually, whatever story there is behind you misplacement would certainly be an interesting mystery to crack, but that's not the point now. If you come, you can't return."

"Can Alice come?"

"Alice?" James asked.

"My sister."

Lord Voldemort didn't have any siblings.

"You have a sister?"

"Well, not by blood, but that doesn't matter. We chose it, so it must be even better."

James eyes the kid strangely, "She cannot come, for the same reason you can. She belongs here, so she ought to stay here."

Tom cracked his fingers as yet again James denied him of his plans and ideas. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes on the floor a he clearly went through a thunderstorm inside of his head.

"Then… then it doesn't matter. I'm not leaving her."

James couldn't help having his jaw drop. He stared at Tom Riddle as if the kid had turned into a chimera.

"Why?" James inquired.

Tom didn't seem to appreciate the question, frowning at James' prodding. "I'm not abandoning her."

James nodded at that, but he knew he couldn't leave things at that. "That empathy," the older man started, "…hold on to it. It is a great asset."

Before Tom could say anything, James stood up and brought forward a small pouch from his coat.

"Tell me young Tom, what is it that you desire? What priorities you have that you feel so strongly about it?"

Tom seemed bothered by the lack of care from James. He was annoying to a great degree, but he had both his attention and his curiosity. He decided that it was too late to stop indulging both himself and James.

"You told me there wasn't any other wizards in this world, right?"

James had not only his hand inside the pouch, but also his entire arm, down to a length that should be physically impossible. It didn't stop him from simply nodding as he clearly searched for something.

Tom couldn't fight his smile. "Than I suppose now it is an obligation."

"An obligation?" James asked, his movements now still. He had either found what he was looking for, or he had stopped to better listen to Tom. It could be both too, though.

"I will become the greatest hero there ever was."

James had his eyebrows slightly upwards, but his skepticism held them mostly down.

"I don't think you have a costume yet—"

"I never will. I'm not a coward."

"Have you gone out once yet?" James pressed.

"It would be foolish. It is not yet time."

"And when it is, what will you do?"

"I will erase them all. The Endbringers, the Slaughterhouse 9, the Teeth. There can be only one at the top."

"That's a lot of power. Won't you go mad over it?" James wondered.

Tom seemed disgusted at the suggestion. "I know what I want, the end I desire. Now it's just a matter of figuring out the path, the middle."

James nodded, but seemed absentminded. He took out four sticks, four wands from his pouch, and gazed at them with some apprehension.

"I guess I have to cover for the Ollivanders," James muttered before looking at Tom again. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mister Riddle. Although, I believe this isn't as great of a collection as it should be, these four wands are what I could recover in my travels. May the best match be a good one too."

Tom seemed surprised, looking between the wands and James himself with disbelief. He then turned his eyes to his own pile of books over his desk, before returning to James

"I suppose you don't carry with you a couple of books on… magic?" he said, the last word with holding more meaning to him than the rest.

James shrugged once again. "You are about to be surprised."

* * *

A/N: Riddle thinks beating all the bad guys automatically makes him a hero. I don't think that's how it works, and James thinks so too. What James thinks that I'm not too sure off is whether this is all worth it.


	2. Cracked Heart - New Chapter (as of 4 20)

**The Lost Youth (Part1): Cracked Heart**

* * *

I cracked my neck, feeling the light breeze caress my skin. The night was warm and humid, a good indicator of the summer that had just arrived.

Before me, from where I stood, a public playground was laid out. It had a wooden castle, ramps, swings, carousels, and the like, but at this time of the night it was empty. No one would dare to come here and play, much less in this part of the city.

But no one bothered me if I didn't want to be bothered. In the days I was in foul mood, I made people look away without even moving a muscle. I could make them uncomfortable and I could made them hesitate, if not simply make them turn away. They would hear these suggestions in their ears, thinking it was their own idea, and follow their directions with enough prodding.

I was different. I could hear people despite their mouths being closed. I could know their secrets, even those they hadn't ever told anyone about. I could them do things too, all within their own personal reason, but still I had power over things no one else had. Abilities that no one else should have, but it was still not enough.

I could make things move, and I would wake up with my room clean, as if it had been taken care of while I slept. The laundry would also get done sometimes, frequently on Fridays. In bad days, I would also twist shadows as I stole light when I wanted to be left in the dark. I could lock the door without even having the key. Only June, our caretaker had the keys, but didn't that matter to me in days I wanted to be left alone.

And still, despite bending my surroundings daily, I still couldn't make it kneel completely. Everyday I was forced to look at other children as I left school, I had to live with the fact that my stupid classmates had families waiting for them at the gates. They would go home to sleep in their private homes, together with two adults, their parents, that cared for them.

And I had nothing. I had neither a home nor love. I lived in what was basically a warehouse, although the other children called it an orphanage. But I had tried to have someone waiting for me. I had made efforts to pull someone to be there expecting me, someone to go home along with me, someone to keep me company.

They hadn't showed up. Not one of the orphans I had pulled had waited for me before heading home after school. They left school and came straight here to this playground. Because they just ' _were too excited_ ', and ' _couldn't make their friends wait_ '.

Well, what a shame. Really, what a shame, because even I wanted to play in this playground. Shame no one ever wants to play with me.

Before I had even realized, the playground was no more. With not a single creak, grit, or chirk, the metals were all twisted. The structures had lost their shape, melting away into a clusters of destroyed beams, ruptured cords and snapped wood.

This wasn't a playground anymore, and the next day in school the rumors started.

"It was a parahuman!"

"Maybe a truck just ran outside the road."

"A scrapper was just looking for more shit to sell."

Various theories had formed up, but those that lived with me seemed quiet and unimaginative during the lunch breaks. I could sense their silence, and I could feel their eyes on me over their own shoulders. By the end of the break, they met quickly, afraid I had been the one to destroy their precious park. Then it was so easy, to just let one of them think it had been their idea.

' _Maybe we should wait for him today._ '

"Maybe we should wait for him today." One of the older boys said.

And they did. They didn't say a word on the way back, hoping that their glances between each other was enough to pass on their thoughts. Point to them, their minds were open enough for me to see everything, so their thinking was coming through, just not in the way they expected.

Although they were afraid of me, they weren't afraid gossiping as their imaginations ran wild.

Did he break it with his own hands?

Did someone else do it for him?

Does he know someone that could do it?

Does he know a parahuman?

Could he be friends with a parahuman?

Is he a parahuman?

I never answered those questions, although that was to be expected. They didn't dare to ask me anything personal. They felt safer while ignorant. They were afraid of provoking. At least at such they were smart, which clearly showed through our new established routine. They would pick me up everyday now.

It had been a bliss the first few weeks. Moms, and sometimes a dad, came to pick up their children, and more uncommonly, but still happened, was older siblings being coming in the place of their parents. My friends weren't my siblings, but it would have to do. It had, right? I had seen in movies, about ties that go beyond blood. Friendship that is immune to the common rules: an undying loyalty.

But if they were my friends, shouldn't they play with me at home? It wasn't even a matter of doing so more frequently. It was a matter of simply doing it in the first place. But they wasted so much time with the cat.

The god damn Snuggles. They would watch movies with Snuggles, pet him all the time, play with him too. When I asked someone to play with me, they couldn't because 'Snuggles' needed attention.

Cats didn't need attention. They were independent pets. That was the whole point.

So, I took Snuggles and gave him the freedom he deserved. He must have needed so desperately, honestly. I made him a favor. I took him under my arm, and though he fought in the beginning, I managed to keep him quiet afterwards. Nothing that a tense grip and fierce look can't solve. Animals were quick to pick who was at the top of the pyramid after all. I crossed half Brockton Bay and dumped him into one of the rich neighborhoods.

Surely, their trash would be enough, and Snuggles would be able to live his life as a strong independent cat. That was what the media was all about these days. Living beings had to take control of their lives. Being cuddled didn't take anyone anywhere!

If only Snuggles had understood his destiny. He came back to the orphanage somehow. He was very dirty , his fur without any of its old shine, and slim as if hadn't eaten anything since I had let him run wild. I couldn't help but wonder if nature had forgotten to give the feline his natural instincts.

A couple of the orphan girls had cried of happiness at seeing Snuggles, and some of the boys had been touched too. All of them had been more touched and happier at getting their round headed rat with a fur tail than they had ever been at seeing me. One of them knew too, or at least suspected that I had something to do with Snuggles' disappearance. He had never gotten any proof, of course not, since I just needed to get into his head for a few seconds to make sure he was following cold and dead trails.

Nevertheless, Snuggles coming back changed nothing. I took him away again, this time to another part of the city, close to merchant territory. It was a terrible and filthy region of the town. I made sure to bathe the animal in dirty and mud, since if it could block scents, maybe it would stop him from finding a way back. Apparently, that's how cats managed to find themselves.

But it didn't work. Snuggles was back, and this time it had been even quicker.

One of the younger boys pushed me aside in one of the following nights, a hand holding my shoulder against the wall. He wasn't stronger than me, but the notion of someone getting this inside of my personal space was somewhat enticing. No one did that, so I let him entertain me.

"I don't what others say, I'm not afraid of you." He started with a snarl, "No one loves you, you creep. Not even pets, who supposedly can love even the worst monsters, spare any of their time with you. You are sad and pathetic, and if you try to take away Snuggles again, I will break your teeth."

I didn't sleep that night. Did I want to be loved? That wish had led me to be pathetic. I had order people to follow me after school, people who had no love for my person. Never would they hug me, never would they smile at me, never would they play with me. They preferred a rat. A big, fat, fuzzy rat.

It had been a slap in my face every time they had gotten Snuggles back. The girl's tears, or the boys' cheers, I had never gotten any of that. I had been pushed aside by an animal, left out in the cold, and no one had a problem with me rotting away.

I wasn't crying. I was just mad, so mad, that I was becoming angry. They didn't love, but I didn't need love. I scared them to follow me after school. I scared them with Snuggles disappearance enough to some come around and play with me a few games.

Fear kept them in check. Fear allowed me to control them and do my bidding. It wasn't love, it was the lack of it. That was what people respected.

I killed the cat the next day, but this time, I didn't drop it somewhere else away in the city. I had brought it to school without anyone noticing. And then when everyone came back from lunch for their afternoon periods, you could hears girls screaming and yelling, some of those same girls that had cried tears of joy. They had found Snuggles over their teacher's desk, right there in front of everyone.

No one was safe, no matter where you are, I can hurt you, and you should fear me. That's the message I got across the orphanage. They tried to find proof I had been in that classroom, proof that I had brought the cat, but they couldn't even figure out how the cat had died.

I made it kill itself. Commit suicide. Did you know animals could suffer from depression? I just had to push him over the edge, for a few weeks, and then, I just let him jump over a few pikes. Just gave him the idea, promising everything would be better.

But how could anyone figure that out? I had never harmed it. Hadn't even been close to the cate for the past few weeks. The orphans knew I had something to do with it, but they couldn't figure out. No one ever would.

That didn't mean it was over. The same boy from before put me against the wall again. I was getting tired of these encounters.

"You killed a harmless cat. Do you understand how pitiful that is? To kill a creature that could never bring you any harm? How much of a coward you need to be? People like shouldn't even be born, you know? Maybe you parents knew that. They simply weren't coward enough to finish the job and couldn't gutter you like you did to the cat. You will be left alone, forever, Tom. No one's coming to adopt you."

I gritted my teeth. I hated how people could say my name like any other. It wasn't. It was my name, and it should be said better.

"We can all sense. But I do want to make it clear for everyone, just for safety." And he raised his hand in a fist. He was going for it, he was going to follow through with his earlier threat.

The following seconds couldn't have been quicker. His throw was fast and accurate, but as his hands came closer to my mouth, I'm ashamed to say I lost sight of what came after.

All I could tell was that my hands were in fists too by my sides, fighting the fight in their own way, and I had won. He was on the floor, his mouth and lips completely red as his teeth were completely blow away from his gum. Blood sputtered on the floor, and his pain was so great that his yells gave way to strange creaks. Did I blow his vocal chords too?

I lost my balance, and I can't tell why. Some sort of rebound effect, my chest felt like a spike would go through it and rip my heart, and I started sweating. I managed to keep myself against the wall to keep me standing, but my lack concentration paid the price. The caretaker had caught us in a compromising position, and for the first in years, someone had proof I had done wrong.

Wait, wrong? The things I do aren't wrong! I'm doing them because I need! Because they all left me! Because mom and dad LEFT!

It wasn't wrong! I just wanted… I just wanted—wanted company…

I looked again at the boy before me, his hands on his mouth as his eyes cried rivers.

He would never be my friend. Even after all I did, all the coercion, he still fought back. When everyone decided to just step back and play along with me, he didn't. He was younger and weaker, and he hadn't given up.

I knew, I just knew, that no matter the result, this kid would curse me until the end. He would never blow, much less please. He would be a rebel.

I couldn't coerce everybody.

But so couldn't love…

…or could it?

* * *

Tom Riddle's backstory is incredible important for the original setup. I tried to jump over its details simply because I didn't know how to both explore it and conjure it in sensible words. That didn't work. This last week, however, a light shone upon and I produced a few paragraphs. The next part will introduce the girl, which is an integral part of Tom's development, and one of the big morals I want this story to bring across.

Also, I feel somewhat obliged to say that I do not, in any way, support animal cruelty. Snuggles will come back to haunt Tom in his later years, because it represents a part of him that he has trouble dealing with.


	3. A Way Home - New Chapter (as of 4 20)

**The Lost Youth (Part2): A Way Home**

* * *

I was being moved to a new orphanage. I wasn't aware of all the details, since I could be sent to juvenile, but I had a feeling that paper work involved a lot of state bureaucracy. Easier than that, was to simply relocate me to another forsaken child storage and leave me there until the next incident arises. These sorts of rotations weren't news at all, and for the most troublesome it was somewhat of a routine throughout the years.

A delinquent. That's how they referred to me now. The change had been done over the summer, so at least schooling wasn't going to suffer too much. I did worry about those things, since all grown ups had studied to get their jobs. IF I wanted to leave the orphanage, then I needed to study too. Not interrupting the school year to switch places was then, a silver lining in my book.

The new house was somewhat smaller. It had a garden in the front and a garden in the back, and the building itself had three floors. Girls at the top, boys at the second, and the common rooms at the bottom, along with most of the administration of the orphanage.

It was also crowded. In the previous orphanage, they had pushed me to the closet, which was still spacious, because people were afraid of sleeping in the same room as me. I suppose that was expected since I gave them nightmares most of the time. But what had been a punishment at first, quickly became a blessing for everyone, because no one wanted me close by. After breaking the boys teeth, no one wanted me in the building. Period.

I wasn't going to enjoy that privilege here. When I was shown my bed, I couldn't help but sigh. It was the bottom of a bunker bed, in a room with eight of them. It was going to take some effort to put them under my control, even more so with less space to divide them and target each one procedurally.

People were usually easier to deal with by themselves. I suspected that is why robbers preferred to assault individuals than groups of people, despite the increasing reward with more purses to steal from. Of course, I could probably pull that off if I wanted.

Most of the kids were out in summer camps. This orphanage seemed to have a few contacts, which allowed most orphans to have a different summer than usual. Still, there were a few here, but none of them were very talkative. I could live with that, but after a few days that wasn't enough.

I suppose I was slightly hesitant in manipulating someone else since the incident, but I knew I was short on time. I needed to start working on the other orphans, but this time, my clean slate gave me an edge.

I would experiment with buttering them up first, instead of using fear straight out. I realized that, if I escalated things too quickly, there would be division and unrest. That had been what drove that boy to attack me despite his hopelessness. I had to be more careful, for even insects couldn't live their life constantly with the fear of being squashed. They needed to believe there was a way out. If I offered that way out, they would be dependent on me.

Writing down a full inventory, I decided to take over my shoulders the state of the house. The orphanage's administration was clearly suspicious of me, since I had been described in some of the worst ways an adult can describe a child. I couldn't do anything else but to prove them wrong. I checked what the kids that were here were eating and using throughout the day, kept tabs on our expenses for the first few weeks, and helped the orphanage at establishing better budgets.

All in the name of responsible spending. Adults loved children who wanted to be grown ups, since they could then push some work to them as a learning experience. After the first month, the administration was starting to count on my reports, since they proved to be more accurate than our caretakers'.

The humans started trusting me. Humans, by that, people that weren't special. They started believing the numbers I gave them, as I twisted their minds and figured out how the orphanage was run. The exterior expenses, the problems the administration was having, the cuts in the government funds, and all that. The worries of the employees became clear as a days as I delve deeper into their minds.

It was all about using the right words, accessing the right memroies, and people would bend to you in a more pleasant way. I did take care, however, to be more subtle. My invasions of privacy caused clear headaches, something that I hadn't noticed before very well. So now I limited myself to understanding the ticks and appealing to them.

It didn't take long for me to take on more house responsibilities, and the other kids never bothered to stop me. In their eyes, I was wasting my summer in cleaning a place that was doomed to become an anarchy over the school year. In my eyes, I was making this place depend on me. Soon, the fruit would bear, and I would control the orphanage through connections that were much stronger than what I had in my previous building.

If I had the administration behind me, if I could force their hand, I could've avoided consequences. Sure, they weren't bad, and gave me a way to improve myself, but it didn't change the fact that there had been consequences for my actions. I was different, special better put, so I couldn't understand why I would follow the same rules. I was better, although they didn't know, but it didn't change the truth.

This orphanage would be different, and it certainly became a new place for those who had gone away temporarily.

When the kids that gone away started returning, they found a new home. Needs and good that needed to be bought were passed down to me, and I would go every week to do the needed shopping. It would have to change once we got everyone back, but being in my position, I could organize under my direction a schedule for everyone to follow and partake.

The adults were loving it. In their eyes, they were seeing the children do some of their work to maintain the orphanage, and it didn't take long for me to hear people boast to outsiders about the quality of the establishment.

When I imposed schedules to clean the building, no employee raised his voice nor hand. The children were under my control. I split the duties among them evenly, making sure there was rotation so that no one felt they were backed into a corner, while spilling out convincing argument about the common wealth of the orphanage and helping each other out.

That didn't mean everyone was taking their new responsibilities well. Particularly, the older orphans.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Jordan asked me. He was a talk black boy, though very skinny. He very frequently complained, but rarely, if ever punched.

"No one wants to clean the house by themselves. Why should you rest while everyone works?" I made sure to use my skills to call people's attention. The secret was to use the power of the majority to suppress any unrest.

"Why should any of us work?! People are being paid—" I made him choke on his saliva.

I raised an eyebrow and clicked my tongue. "What Jordan? You can't even do laundry? Can't tie your bed without a nanny? Can you tie your shoe at least?"

"I'm gonna tie your fucking hair to the top bunker—"

"Jordan!" one of the caretakers came by, precisely at the right time. It was all about controlling the sound that left the room, and introducing hurrying thoughts at the right moment with the right content. The woman had already arrived expecting Jordan to be the source of the problem, and at finding him raising his voice, right in the middle of the debacle, let her confirm her biased views. That is, biased view I had fed, and had continuously fed about all other kids I sensed were more than slightly bothered with my presence in the orphanage.

I knew I was doing things right when at one point, I heard two employees wondering how I could be a problem child. I used this moment to insert a simple idea, that is, that my problem was that I was too uptight in the last orphanage.

They would never check. It had been months already that I was here, and although in the beginning it was disputable, my stay here was now given as permanent.

But my success had been empty, for I had not risked doing what I wasn't sure of my success. Was it wrong to want love? I had done things that people had been scared of. I had tried to make them understand I just wanted to be friends, but never listened. Never gave me a chance.

I couldn't jeopardize myself again, so I had tried here again. I had slim hopes that maybe, by helping the orphanage, someone would notice me, and my hard work. Someone would come along and tell me I had done a good job, as they should.

But the transition of power hadn't been without its hitches, and so people were still distant from me. I could live like this. Differently than the past orphanage, the average opinion about me wasn't negative. I was simply viewed as slightly annoying, but passable since I helped the orphanage get its things in order. At the end of the day, the place was cleaner, there was more money to be spent on food and the occasional toy.

Right, because buying a few surprise toys to the youngest kids could do wonders on public opinion. Still, wonders for me was simply stopping anyone from having negative emotions towards me. I had to keep that door open for situations that truly needed.

People feared less those who are commonly loud and angry, than those who rarely express their negative feelings. I would keep those feelings bottled up and use them to inspire fear and respect the day I needed. The shock and impact would be much greater. Until then, I would be a perfect gear of the orphanage machine, slowly growing and slowly encasing it, until one day, before anyone realizes, I'm above anyone and anything. My will is the rule.

"Excuse me, I want to help." Her voice was dim, but somehow, it found reason and carried admirable certainty.

Any positive thoughts about her enthusiasm evaporated once I realized their source. Alice was a blind girl. Her blond hair shined like gold silk and reached up to her waist. However, it was her eyes that were her most defining trait.

Grey and aimless.

I looked around at the rest of the orphans. We had a weekly meeting to discuss anything the orphanage might need, as well as changes in schedule. This week, to be more specific, was about adapting our duties to the orphanage to the beginning of the school year.

Having one more pair of hands would ease the work split, but the reason Alice hadn't been involved before was… well, she was kinda useless. Less than a normal human, she lacked one of the basic senses to live in a society.

I was actually somewhat impressed at the fact she could move around the house without tripping. People told me she had grown here in the house, and so knew it very well. Somehow, however, they also told me she was able to walk from school by herself. She had surprised a few people one day doing that, despite her being the so young.

Nevertheless, if—

"I can help her." A hand rose in the air, Rose's hand. She was my age, and yet, she was still quite shorter than anyone in our age group.

I simply shrugged. I didn't see a problem with that, and if Rose wanted to waste time her time like this, so be it. Maybe then Alice would realize she is just not fit for hand work, though I do wonder what sort of work she could even do.

The night before my first day of school finally arrived. Many of the orphans had already started, since we were split between different institutions, so I was actually one of the last ones. A simple visit to the kitchen that night was needed before I finally went to bed. My stomach kept grumbling, and despite my efforts to change my mind by self-hypnosis, it seems I had yet to master the craft.

To my surprise, I found there another soul. Alice was cleaning the table, which shone resolutely. In fact, I noticed, she seemed to be cleaning what was already clean. Had someone felt bad and cleaned for her, in case she failed? Had it been—

"Tom?" she asked despite myself not announcing my presence.

I frowned. "You knew it was me?"

She giggled. "You walk funny."

Was she making fun of me? At first, I gritted my teeth at my memories from the last orphanage, but suddenly, I realized… had she done so without a negative connotation? Why was my chest getting tighter?

"Says the cane girl." I retorted somewhat stiffly.

She laughed. "I suppose that is a sight," she clicked her fingers, "but at least I got good ears. You talk too softly sometimes and I can't hear you in the back."

Had she made a reference to her own disability? A joke even? Wait, was this banter? Was I having banter? I shook my head.

"You know the table is already clean right? Did anyone put you up to—"

"I know," she nodded, "it's just that I'm training so I can do it faster. Or else I will be too slow to help."

"There are people who can—"

She shook her head and somehow I didn't force my voice. Her smile somehow was more disconcerting.

"I have to help. Can't have fresh meat like you doing so much already. Shouldn't the elders give the example?!"

"We are the same age." I reminded her.

"Oh, you sound younger." What did she just say? "Doesn't matter. I grew up here, I have to do more."

She seemed pretty set on it, and it was too late for me to argue anymore than I should. I had classes tomorrow. I walked past her, as her hands kept scrubbing the polished wood, and grabbed a couple of cookies from the refrigerator.

"Also, don't you have classes?" I asked her as I was about to leave.

"I don't need a lot of sleep." She told me confidently, a thumbs up for good measure.

I shrugged and went to bed.

The next day was as mundane as it could. Being the first day of school, professors introduced themselves and students got to meet each other. I suppose this was an opportunity for everyone to procrastinate a bit, but it served me just as well. With everyone introducing themselves and opening up, it was the perfect opportunity to dive into people's heads and get an idea of who I was sharing the classroom with.

For all I could gather, this was a perfectly average middle school, if only a bit to the poorer side. Violence around here however was at a low since neither of the major gangs were interested in this few blocks, at least not at the present. Perhaps in a bit too much of a coincidence, the small gangs were also leaving this place alone, which was honestly a blessing. Still, there were much better places to put your kids in, but this wasn't bad at all.

It was barely past four in the afternoon when I finally reached the gates of my new school. As I stretched my back and cracked my neck, I put myself forward and readied myself to walk back home. It was time to learn my new route and see if there were any nifty shortcuts.

"Tom?" that same voice, dim, but gentle and assured, called my name.

It hadn't been automatic. I did take a few steps before turning to the source, finding Alice besides the outer gates leaning against the wall. She took a few steps forwards, her cane extended until its tips found my legs.

"Found you!" she exclaimed.

"So, you study here too." I concluded. I suppose it made sense. I didn't see her often, so I had wrongly assumed she had already started her term. Seems like it had only been today.

"Is there anything you need help with?" Not exactly how I wanted to spend my time, but as girl from my orphanage, I felt this was a question I had to ask. Even more so because I had noticed people specially liked her.

She shook her head, "I was just thinking that you helped us so much… I wanted to help you too. Do you know the way home?"

I frowned. She wanted to come with me to the orphanage? By her own will?

"I did come here in the morning didn't I?" I asked her somewhat off-balance.

"Well, yes!" she said, raising her hand and closing it in front of her with a smile, "But do you know the fastest way?"

I had to stop there and tune out the noise from the general vicinity, because I didn't know how to follow up. I smile I couldn't control immediately creeped up on my face, but thankfully she couldn't see it. I looked around, half-expecting to have someone to just jump in and tell me that it was a joke. That no one wanted to keep me company, that nothing had changed.

Even in the new orphanage, despite the neutral opinion, people didn't make efforts for me. I had been fine with that, but right now, at that moment, I saw a blind girl, someone that I believed to be uncapable, to deliver to me in a silver platter what I had been hopping for all these years.

How could a blind girl see so clearly what I wanted so desperately? But should I be surprised? She clearly tries to help, puts herself forward to take action. I had been the one to ignore her past efforts. I had been the one to brush the blind girl off. And yet, here she was, the blind girl offering herself to show me the way.

I mean, ' _desperatly wanted'_? Those words might be too strong, but I had to admit to myself that… I was waiting for this.

Maybe, after all the hard work I had put in, I expected more than just people's dependence. Maybe I expected a thank you. Maybe I expected a handshake. But I supposed that having some company with me as I walked home from school wasn't a bad start.

No. It wasn't a bad start at all.

* * *

This somewhat how I envisioned the start of their friendship, between potentially one of the most prejudicial wizards and a muggle with special needs.

In a similar vein to how Harry Potter's greatest wish is to have a family, and build one out of his friends, Tom Riddle, if given the chance, can be a 'better' person. JK Rowling's focus on Voldemort incapability of loving always sounded disturbing to me, as if monsters must be born due to inherent faults.

This Tom Riddle, despite a parallel version of him, is still being envisioned as one that could take the original Tom Riddle's place. However, he is lucky for facing certain experiences and having a hand extended at the right time in the right way. Call it a one in a million chance, that Tom meets the right people in order for him to not turn out as one of the most dangerous Dark Wizards of all time. It doesn't mean, however, that he is a different person, something that I strove to make clear with Snuggles.

Tom Riddle was born with dangerous predispositions. I'm respecting that intrinsic characterization Rowling gave him. I suppose then, I'm being slightly optimistic, but to believe that there is one in a million chance to turn him around, that's not too far fetched… or is it?


	4. The Boardwalk Walk

The Boardwalk Walk

I like to keep things simple for as long as possible. I think I can get sidetracked with ease, so I double down on my effort to make sure I remain focused. Those around me certainly believe my diligence, and though it is not perfect, it is sustainable as long as I produce results. But what can I say? I was fascinated after meeting the strange existence that was James Holsher. My grades slipped up a bit afterwards, as I was so taken up by the possibilities, but alas, I had regained what I had lost.

I left athletics completely. I left both the soccer team and (if it counts), the chess club. I also stopped tutoring classes outside of sciences. It was a must, since now I needed to change my priorities. I needed time I didn't have previously and the new arrangements I had made had the sole objective of providing me with the opportunity to delve into the unknown arts that Mr. Holsher had brought me.

Truly, an interesting character. An interdimensional individual who had thought worth it to approach me. He had told me I had been the only wizard he had detected, but I had to wonder if that was true, or if he simply believed it but had no way of confirming it. Nevertheless, whether or not there were wizards out there was something I could do little about for now.

"Tom, help me find a bench." asked Alice from besides him.

She was a girl one year younger than me, blond, and eyes as grey as the moon. She used her cane to make sure she wouldn't stumble, and I kept myself besides her to make sure she wouldn't bump into anything her cane didn't detect. She was really good at it by now, but I couldn't help but keep an eye on things that could cross her way.

We were on the Boardwalk on Saturday afternoon, a day with clear skies and a sun with still an hour before it set. However, it had been one of those days which the weather forecast had been less than stellar. It was supposed to be raining, but the day had opened up, and so the Boardwalks wasn't packed when it should've been.

We walked a bit before I realized that most benches were taken by strangers, and most annoyingly as the fact that some of them had but one or two people. Eventually, I decided to take the problem and make it an opportunity. I managed to cross eyes with a man that had our seat, took the advices from the books I had, and performed what was supposed to be Legilimency. While it was a skill that seems to be used mostly for basic telepathic communication, I saw it as more… incisive tool.

I didn't order the man to leave the bench. I neither said, nor commanded in any way possible. Instead, he left it on his own volition. I gave him an idea, more specifically, I told him it would be a good idea to take a walk up to a certain point on the Boardwalk, further way from where we were. What Legitimancy allowed was to make the target think he was the one who had the idea to start with, provided your intrusion wasn't detected.

I helped Alice seat, a hand on her shoulder and the other helping her find the bench with the back of her legs. Once we were comfortable, Alice sighed.

"What is it?" I asked her tentatively.

"You've been hiding something from me." She said as a matter of fact.

Sometimes, I swore she could actually see. Fewer times, but they certainly happened, I thought she was a wizard too. Just in case for either, I strained a smile as best a I could, but I knew I couldn't fool her. I rarely did.

"And where has your imagination had the pleasure to run wild this time?"

Alice visibly pouted. "You're insufferable."

"I've been told."

"Is this still about the wallet thing?"

I shrugged, despite knowing she wouldn't see it.

"You know, I'm sinking with that ship."

I snorted. "You should choose your battles more carefully, Alice. A half-baked memory isn't the wisest choice."

"I know what I saw!" she exclaimed with a small smile. "The wallet just kept giving new coins. It was pocket-sized bank!"

I laughed, but not too hard. I made sure it seemed genuine. "Your vision had already gone out for the most of it, Alice. They did so colors could stop making sense."

"Well, there was the fountain too a couple of years ago. I didn't see it, but I god damn heard it!"

I sighed, tired from telling the same lie over and over again and feeling less and less convinced she ever believed me. "I've told you he slipped—"

"I heard the water first hitting him." She said while crossing her arms. "Him falling was the result."

I massaged my temples. "If you say so."

Alice sighed again. "I heard you left the soccer team."

Alice was the only person I felt bad about lying to. The only person that made me feel any remorse. Others? I cared little. I had my objectives, they had their interests, and life went on. As long as no one got too hurt, I suppose the world wouldn't care, and I would take full advantage of that. But Alice? A thorn since my first memory, and even though she had gone blind, I still felt at disadvantage when hiding something from her.

So, I set a limit. I would only hide things related to my more extraordinary abilities, but right now, what was I supposed to say if not to extend the boundaries I had set for myself previously.

"I lost interest." I said lamely.

"You've also cut your tutoring." Alice noted.

"I don't like helping others like you do."

Alice shook her head. "But you should. At least make an effort. If you are good at something, than help others along the way?"

She was too kind of a soul. Despite her own deficiencies, she would help the orphanage as much as she could, and I could see her one days as a teacher. I had the impression she could teach better than me even though I could still see. In fact, I wondered now if her plans had changed anyhow…

"You still want to be a teacher?" I asked her.

She took a couple of seconds to answer. "I was watching a movie with Julie last week, you know—about the UN—and they use translators who hear and translate to leaders from different world countries. I was thinking that helping the world listen to each other would be a good way of helping people."

Although I wasn't exactly bought by the idea at first—movies could be a tad bit idealistic most of the times—the hope on her voice that she would be able to do something worthwhile was enough for me to nod along.

"It seems wonderful honestly." I answered.

"And what about the chess club?" Alice inquired suddenly. "Think you would change the topic easily, did you?"

I snorted, "I suppose I'm not that good, am I? Well, I guess I also lost some interest."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." I answered simply, but I felt pressed to give her more. Against my instincts, I confessed, "I found other things."

"Special things?" she asked playfully.

"Just things." I said, and I realized I needed to talk to her about something important, but very bothersome too. "There is something."

"I'm all ears." Alice said appeased.

"It's not nice." I said first, but at her silence I kept going. "I'm applying to a series of universities right now and… only a few are somewhat close by."

I saw her smile crumble and my heart felt like pressed by an elephant. So much for being a prodigy, it felt unfair to now leave her behind, for had I kept still on my grade and not moved on forward with classes, I could be with her for a couple more years.

"And then you will be gone for four years." She observed. "Maybe three if you rush it."

I nodded despite the uselessness.

A light breeze passed by and I remembered why Alice liked to take these walks. For her that could not see, it was the comfort of good company, and the warmth of a good sunny day that relieved her stress. I wondered for a moment how she thought. Did she still use her memories of old, of when her eyes were still awake? Had her new experiences, after losing her vision, turned her brain dark somehow? Had her new life stolen her dreams of before? Was I hurting her by leaving the Bay? I found myself tempted to peep her mind but stopped myself before long. That was a line I couldn't cross.

"You can always call me. I will be here in an instant if there is ever the need." I told her, and I instinctively held her hand besides me.

She gave a timid smile. "I think not even your magic tricks will bring you so quickly."

You know, I read this thing called 'Apparating'. I just have to test the distance limitations.

I smiled, liking the challenge. "While you wait, take the chance to see another movie with Julie. I bet I will be home before you two watch it through the end."

She snorted. "You sure you can manage that? You would have to be still studying at Brockton Bay, and the college here isn't quite the best—"

"I assure you this is a fight I can take."

"Well, if you say so, captain. But remember, you don't need to sink with the ship. That would be a waste."

"I will keep an eye out for the iceberg."

Problem was, I could already spot the iceberg myself. I didn't matter how I wanted to think of my meeting with James. The fact was that now I needed to be careful, if I'm to keep practicing magic as I have done since his visit five weeks ago. His words about myself being the 'only one' also echoed inside my head even in my dreams. I wondered, if he could have detected me, if other parahumans, those with at least a stranger ability, could have done it too.

But nothing had happened. No one had ever found me, or the orphanage. Could I be currently under watch at this moment? I couldn't tell, but I made sure I would know of anything important inside the orphanage. I took the first books of spellworks and I had been working on them. Couldn't do much with the other works without special equipment, and I had no idea where I could get my ingredients for potions, but I would have to soon make way. I couldn't waste time.

The orphanage had a few simple charms. I knew who was in my room, when Alice was on hers, and I also knew who was inside the orphanage at all times, provided I was paying attention to my markers. I had a sheet of paper that told me what I needed to know in a simple format. Problem was that I hadn't managed to automate the erasing yet, so that was still a bit useless since I couldn't read anything since the charm was scribbling over its past notations. At least, I seemed to be receiving signal from those charms even through all the way here at the Boardwalk.

"What you are looking at?" Alice asked, no doubt hearing the paper in my hands.

I pulled one of the empty sheets of papers. "I was thinking that maybe we should make a paper plane."

Alice smiled and nodded.

We made three afterwards. I would guide her hands and make sure the folds were sharp, and if not, I would pull her finger over it and force it though. If needed, I would give it an extra special push, to make sure the paper didn't fight against.

When she threw them, I made sure they would fly far, even if she couldn't see. The last one I even made sure it returned and landed on her lap. I suppose I wasn't helping myself with her suspicions over me, but at hearing her smile and laugh, I realized there was little that mattered. A couple of kids even came to us and asked if we could teach them how to make those paper planes, to which Alice immediately obliged. Obviously, the planes they made with her were soaring higher than normal, despite the fact they were less aerodynamic than they should be. It took me some focus to keep the wind coming, but as the flow got going, it started getting easier.

As the kids laughed around Alice and she started sharing with them a couple of stories, I couldn't help but think I couldn't be sure she would have these moments without me. She probably wouldn't in fact. Whether world I wanted to build or create, I needed to make sure, I realized, that Alice would be able to do this by herself. I kinder world that would have to be. It seemed that on my way to power, I needed to be certain that those that had to kneel would kneel, if only for Alice to be happy as she was right now, forever.

A/N: Tom Riddle, if capable of loving, doesn't seem so bad does he?


	5. A Change of Plans

A Change of Plans

I didn't like any of it, I had to admit. The masks, the costumes, and the whole hero versus villain paradigm. It just sounded like a bad joke. If an individual was to prevail any threat, danger, or obstacle, then he needed to do so in all circumstances. Masked, unmasked, named, unnamed. Whoever one is, he must simply be. And I hadn't even touched on the whole secret identity issue. Not only modern politics, but politics throughout history depended on the identity of a government. Be it a monarchy, or a republic, the people must know who's in charge, know the duty they should follow, and what to expect as per the social contract.

Capes threw all that out of the damn window and brought only the worst of its consequences.

Unaccountability.

Irresponsibility.

Anarchy.

It allowed the worst of men to fester, which had become clear in recent months. The Dragon of Kyushu had come to Brockton Bay, for months already, and he still ran free. He had yet to do anything however, but it didn't change the fact that capes only attracted problems. Fortunately, I could make use of their presence.

I knew I was imperfect, and I knew I couldn't just go out and get myself into trouble and hope for the best without any cover. If anyone was to identify me before the time was right, it would ruin my plans. I would create an identity, both through a mask and through my public life that would inspire, and consequently, manipulate.

Until then I could become more than a man, more than a wizard, I would be subtle, for despite my gifts, I still bled just as a human did. Despite healing myself, I still felt tired. I didn't know yet a spell that could fix my mortal vulnerabilities. A couple of potions came to mind, but I had yet to practice any potion making. Nevertheless, I would be an idiot to think I could go out in the night with no cover, but I refused to wear a costume. Made me feel like a clown.

A mask, however, was something more agreeable. I spent a couple of nights with a piece of aluminum, using what the books called Transfiguration Arts to change the format and shape of the material. It was good practice as I took a design from one of my school's history books, basing it out of old Viking masks. I hadn't really a preference, but I figure I could just start by copying others who've used metal work for this sort of stuff. A good way to benchmark my results.

I set the mask on my desk, after clearing it out completely, took a few steps back and held my wand out. The wooden stick in my hold felt comfortable, but I couldn't say it was perfect. I was, nevertheless, quite happy with it. A twelve inch wand, made of hawthorn with a phoenix's feather core.

I felt it rumble under my hold as I prepared myself. I conjured an arrow and shot it forwards.

"Onema Flecha!"

The power I could put behind a wand was infinitely more than when I didn't. It helped me focus by a lot. I wondered how it was with so many wizards in one place. Were they all this capable? Could they all feel the magic trembling under their control? Were they all fighting to be the most powerful? One day, I would like an answer to that, but now I was smiling to myself, as the mask successfully deflected the arrow.

Testing a bullet however, was a different story, but it had to be done. I needed to know what sort of spells worked on modern weaponry. All the books I had were oddly unspecific about normal, unmagical long range weapons, which made me think their yellow pages were perhaps as old as they looked. Honestly, were people still fighting with swords when they were written? There were more than a few tips on how to approach flesh cuts, including advice on different blade cuts and arrow penetrations. Nothing on gunpowder weapons, however.

There was a couple of knocks on the door.

"Tom, what the fuck are you doing?"

I realized three things. First, that I had forgotten to silence my room. I really needed actual spells to make it permanent. Second, Peter, by the voice, was about to enter my room if the turn of the handle was anything to go by. Third, that I hadn't locked it. Alice had been here not half an hour ago, so I ended up leaving it open.

I didn't know a spell for it, but I took hold of my wand and willed for it. Pointing at my lamp above my room, I wished it off and the lamp's light was snuffed out. I briefly wondered if I could break the lamp or other electric circuitry like that, but my thoughts quickly resumed to handling Peter.

"Why is it so dark?" He said as he opened the door with a loud creak.

"I was about to go to sleep." I told his silhouette, as the light from the corridor made it difficult for me to properly see him.

"Oh, sorry bro." Peter said apologetically. "Anyway, you heard that sound?"

I shrugged. "Maybe a cat fell off the roof." That did bring back some les than stellar memories.

Peter became still for a second. "Maybe I should check."

He turned around and left the door frame, and I heard him going down the stairs in hurried steps.

I rolled my eyes. "That was easy."

With a swish of my wand, the door came to a close, but I still needed to lock it.

"Colloportus." I commanded, and I heard the door click and seal.

None of these spells were complicated. I could turn off the lights and lock doors without the use of my wand, but I did notice the lesser strain the casting put on me. I suppose that is what a wand was all about. Letting the magical core, if I remembered James Holsher's words correctly, do the heavy lifting for you. I did momentarily wonder from where my magic came from though. Was it part of nature? Was it part of myself? Perhaps a bit of both?

I had a good number of questions, and as days went by, the list grew proportionally. Each time I forced myself to study for school, the more I hated it. Focusing on my school classes had become more challenging, and my grades had become slightly less than perfect, but it spoke a lot of the quality of my colleagues in Arcadia where I still reigned as the top student. Bunch of useless morons. I was basically studying for most of my time the mystic arts, and I still aced the tests.

The following morning, I was walking in the halls of Arcadia, when I realized there really were very few students salvageable from the stand point of world domination. It was to be expected, since this was a small sample in a world where billions of souls lived and flourished. I would have to hunt down those that could be of use, inspire them, and take their lead.

I would need a good marketing team, as well as a few global newspapers in my pockets, but before that I had to grow under their rules. I would have to behave nicely, just I had done here at Arcadia, right under the Wards noses. Good practice, I say, for the future.

My next class, Parahuman Studies, made me wonder about the parahuman brain. Was it close enough to humans for my spells to work correctly? Your brain was supposed to change slightly, but you remained mostly human. I knew after some good research that the difference was small, but even then it got me slightly worried and quite curious. I needed a test subject, but to do that, I would need to identify a cape outside of costume and take him or her in. No one could see me, no one could suspect me. It was too soon for my debut.

Legilimency, for the best results, required at least two people to cross their eyes for a single moment, and thanks to my mastery of the subject, I was sure I would avoid being detected. That is, unless capes had a caveat I was unaware of. There wasn't a single one, but multiple wards here at Arcadia, and I was still unprepared. If I came to face one, two, perhaps even three, I could deal with it with the element of surprise, but not on time before the PRT was warned about myself and my actions. All, however would be solved if I either didn't need to look at them or if I could affect more than one person at the same time.

They wouldn't then be able to point out their invader.

The math class provided to me a satisfactory distraction, though slightly 'uncontrollable'. I was sitting in the middle of the classroom, exactly where I should be, when I decided to make things more interesting. I wouldn't use the teacher for this, just as I had never done before. Teachers and professors were sacred positions. They were people who helped others find their paths, as well as continuing their studies and furthering their knowledge. I could approve of both goals.

I set my head low, fixated my eyes on my notebook so that any perceptive mind would simply see Tom Riddle reading his book intently, and reached for my wand inside my trousers. It was a warm feeling. It was time to push Legilimency with the usage of my wand, one step further.

"Legilimens." I whispered as if I was reading my own notes.

I focused not on the concept of two people, or three, or four, but instead in a singularity. In the entire first row of the class. The first row of the class, I thought to myself. One thing, and one thing only. A row of people.

The feedback wasn't controlled at all. I felt forced to feel five different sources with more detail than ever before, memories jumbling together, sights scrambled into one, and I couldn't deal with it appropriately. I opened my eyes with my head buzzing, and I found that the entire first row of students had fallen from their seats. Well, all but one, who managed to hold on to his table.

It seemed the wand had given me too much output.

There were gasps, and people stood up to help the fallen students. My victims had their hands over their ears and foreheads, and they seemed to be under a grave headache. I felt bad momentarily for how I left them, even ashamed as this had been the worst execution of Legilimency I had ever done, but it had been worth it. Now I just need to tune the strength into accuracy, and soon practice would smooth future results.

I looked at Joyce, a girl on the other side of the classroom, and I managed to catch her eyes momentarily.

"For fuck sake Triumph!" she complained in a mockingly tone, just as I had told her to do. I needed to quickly put someone else as the responsible.

"Wait, you know he's in our class?" another voice pitched up. That was Amelia.

The student besides me, Jack, snorted, "He probably is. Maybe he fired a sound blast by mistake."

"Wouldn't we notice something like that?"

The students continued to make erroneous guesses. It wasn't their fault really, since not only they were ignorant of the truth, they were also subpar specimens. That only made it easier to twist it and give to them something far more familiar and expected. No one believed in magic and wizards, despite the clear exitance of capes, which were still unexplained.

Rumors quickly mounted up, that Triumph was a student in our class, and the student body became livelier at lunch than normal. Some people were complaining that Triumph should be punished, while others thought the PRT should not be too harsh since it must have been an accident. Funnily enough, most had outright ignored the victims' symptom descriptions. They would quickly realize that a sound blast may not be the best fit, but now even the students of that front row were starting to believe it had been Triumph.

Cleared from any possible suspicions from the student body, I now had to watch out for the PRT. They would know the truth, that Triumph was innocent, which meant no more spells at Arcadia. They would probably hunt an unknown cape form now on, and I had to stay low for the following months. I needed to have a perfect score as a human, a normal one too, to not have my chances at higher education stained. It was essential for my future plans.

Damn it. This was mishap that was not allowed to be repeated.

With no more interesting events, other than the bumbling guesses of children, classes finally came to an end with the utmost normality. Or as normal as you can expect while having superheroes among you. I stopped by our Student Council since we had a meeting today that I couldn't skip. As the Treasurer, I needed to be sure the idiots wouldn't come up with something too expensive for the Halloween party.

So, there I was, in the round table together with the rest of the Council. I thought to myself that perhaps I could keep the meeting short. I could give them ideas from the start that I could agree with, but I concluded that wasn't good sportsmanship. I needed to be used to normal interactions and negotiations, lest I be marked in the future as a tyrant who mind controls all his subordinates. I'm sure there's no amount of PR that could save me from that nightmare.

Thus, naturally, a meeting that could've been done in half an hour turned to two hours, and I left Arcadia in a slightly sour mood. It didn't improve later at home when I failed to find Alice, as had been usual.

Finally, I went to our small living room on the first floor.

"Carl, where's Alice?" I asked one of the older boys from the orphanage. Carl was the same who, supposedly, was responsible for picking her up today.

He was eating cereal, at six o'clock in the afternoon no less, when he shrugged. "She's fine. She called me today and told me a friend from school was bringing her home. I think they are passing by the shopping at 15th Street."

I suppose that was okay then, though unusual. "Which friend?"

"I think… John? It was a guy."

I sighed. She had told me of that boy before, I believe, but it had seemed so insignificant that I hadn't really looked into it. Whatever. Alice was a good judge of character, so if she thought she would be fine with him, I suppose there was little I could do. She also needed to find someone else to rely on after I was gone, but having a male friend for that was somewhat of a bother. I was hoping Julie would be the one to fill the gap since they were quite close.

"When is she back?" I asked him, and he then took his eyes off the TV and looked at me.

"Jealous?" he joked with a sly smile.

I frowned, "Just planning ahead."

Carl rolled his eyes, "She mentioned she would be back before dinner. Just don't kill him, because I think she likes him."

She-she likes him?

Whatever.

She had a phone, so I could call if she wasn't here for dinner. I looked at the our whiteboard, the one we used to keep track of our duties around the orphanage, and realized two of our younger kids had marked their tasks off when they shouldn't.

"Carl, I will be going to my room. Send Jessica and Ronald to me once they arrive. They skipped cleaning duty."

I didn't wait for his reply, certain he had listened. I went up the stairs, reached the third floor, got to my bedroom, and set my backpack over my bed. I closed the door, locked it, and silenced my surroundings from the outside.

This room had been a sort of a storage, but thanks to my grades, scholarship, and special services to the orphanage, I had been given it for my studies.

Looking back on the school Legilimency mistake, I felt even angrier. That had been too risky, but then again, I need a better source of practice. I was starting to feel the limitations of my self-studying. Furthermore, I had grown unhappy with my future plans. Before meeting James Holsher, the plan was to build just a few connections in Brockton Bay, and only actually focus on networking at university.

That had been before I had a wand. It changed everything. I now regretted skipping two years, since now I could have enough power from the get-go to start playing the 'game'. I had wanted to hurry my high school education in order to meet who mattered at college. Businessmen, employers, researchers, spokesmen, politicians, journalists, and etc. No one cared about which high school you went in. It was all about getting into a good college, one with a name, and using the prestige to advance your interests.

My wand, and the knowledge James had left me, was a game changer. Suddenly, investing earlier in Brockton Bay was much more attractive. Now, I could compete in the big boys' league. I just had to remain careful and gather enough experience before facing off someone else comparable to myself.

Looking back at the Halloween Party discussion I had today, I realized there were a few sponsors and local leaders that I could make good use of, as long as I played the right cards. Different men required different approaches after all. That would be a good way to spend my night, but I could not yet begin that task. I still felt a bit frustrated, and honestly, Alice was only 14 years old. Almost 15, right, but not yet, and how old was John, again?

Feeling my nerves getting the best out of me, I stepped over my bed and decided to follow through with something I hoped to be practicing soon.

Jumping, I said but two words as I clenched my wand. "Arresto Momentum!"

As my feet landed on the ground with no intervention of the spell, my day got a bit more frustrating. Making the right wand movements while jumping and falling was harder than it looked. After a few more unsuccessful tries, far more than I was proud to admit, I gave up for that spell for the day. My dreams of flight seemed to have been postponed one more day.

Opening one of the thinnest books, it was time I ventured onto something less innocent. Carl was right, I shouldn't kill John just because Alice was happy with him. I should do so, however, if he in any way hurt her. I couldn't find it in any of the instruction books Mr. Holsher had left me, but a couple of tales made reference to it. The Killing Curse, I mean. I didn't know the incantation, but it was time I made some important headway. I still had, after all, an hour or so before dinner, and I wasn't on cooking duty tonight.

A/N:

Tom Riddle isn't a Shonen character. He isn't going to jump in any fight. When he does though, oh boy. Just wait for it.

Edited as of May 21st


	6. Clearer Future

Clearer Future

I had done my research, and I had decided business casual was the best away to go dressed as. I had dark jeans, a white buttoned shirt, and a black blazer. On par with my clothes, I made both my belt and my shoes colored dark with the help of my wand.

"Thanks for driving me, Peter."

The car of my fellow orphan was an old red sedan missing the bumper. He managed to sneak in and stop right at the front of the Dockworkers Union in the mid of the busy traffic. Waving Peter a good bye, I got in the building.

The reception was spartan, with a balcony on the right side of the entrance hall. On the left, there were a series of seats, most of them occupied, and a sizable TV reporting the latest news. I did have an appointment thanks to a few contacts inside the Student Council. We had managed a meeting with their Head of Hiring, though I wasn't sure if that would help me avoid a wait, even if short.

After checking with one of the ma'ams behind the counter, I took a seat. She said I wouldn't wait for too long, which I hoped to be true. We did know that the Union was trying to increase their contact with the youth, knew this was their chance to mingle their own among the richest kids in town. For a worker's union, it was a golden opportunity. In exchange of spreading their propaganda, of course, the least they would do would be to provide sponsorship to our Halloween Party, and by such, I mean funding.

And that was it, for most people, but not just for me. I had a lot more to gain from this than just getting a few dollars to tend the whims of a bunch of hormonal teenagers. Sure, I would give them their party, but I would get something for myself too, and I knew what to get.

" _2 Dead and 4 Injured at last night's crossfire between the cape known as Trueday and local human gang—"_

A man besides me chuckled sardonically, "They don't even refer to normal gangs by their name anymore. I suppose it doesn't make a difference when there's a dragon inside our walls."

"Monsters, all of them." A woman muttered across the room.

"The capes?" more voices joined the conversation, and I didn't make an effort to keep track of them.

"The gangs too."

"At least the cape could've been shot."

"Probably hard to hit this one though—heard t'was a teleporter."

"Violence isn't the answer."

I noticed some nods, but also more than a few unsatisfied expressions, which is exactly what I was hoping for. No one liked violence, but against parahumans, normal people felt threatened, and despite efforts from the government and the PRT, capes were still more likely to follow through a path of villainy than otherwise. The common citizen couldn't help but be scared, and the situation had only deteriorated last year with pretty much the end of the unmasking movement. Any hope for accountable capes had gone down the drain.

"What's her name? Shadow Walker?"

"Stalker."

"'Stalker', right I keep getting it messed up with Skywalker. Anyway, at least she is doing something. PRt should be harsher, just like she is."

"I'm not sure if I want to leave an underage girl to take care of our backs."

I was mostly sure it was the girl with a crossbow, but I should make sure. Despite finding it idiotic, I would have to know all these made up names when I joined the game. On another note, I found the last comment ironic. I sure as hell wasn't wait for my 18th birthday to start taking action. However, it was all about debut. Shadow Stalker was an independent cape who took justice into her own hands, but I couldn't help but feel it a rather disadvantageous approach. You had no backing, no legitimacy, no authority, with the PRT breathing down your neck at any chance for you to join them. Pretty sure she wouldn't be able to use lethal bolts once she joined the wards.

"Mr. Riddle?" a woman of age from behind the counter stood up, went around as she fiddled with her glasses as held close a few sheets of paper. She approached my seat prodding for me to get up. "Mr. Hebert is expecting you. Now, if you follow me."

The walk was short. What took the longest was the wait for the elevator, which we needed to cross three floors. It even had a silly soundtrack, which I couldn't help but feel I had been taken back to the 80s. His office had a metal plaque on his door, his name inscribed into it, and the lady accompanying me opened it and motioned me to get in.

Mr. Hebert was skinny, that much was obvious, and had his eyes on a short, and yet sizable stack of papers before his green eyes looked up at mine.

 _Legilimens_.

 _Happily married, has a daughter. Currently stressed but manages personal and professional life with finesse. Worried and angry—temperament issues. Paper are about his subordinates. Corruption within the union. His union. Feels attached, but willing to punish them. People he likes are guilty of bribes and deals with local gangs—parahuman gangs._

I didn't push more than that. Contact had to be brief or else people could realize something was off. The deeper I went, the more noticeable it was. No one had ever suspected I had gotten inside their head, but it was better safe than sorry, and honestly, I had enough. Now it was time to talk.

His office wasn't large by any means, but he actually stood up, crossed half of it to meet me and shook my hand with a good grip while asking me to take a seat in front of his desk. On his way back to his chair, he took out a pot from his coffee machine and served himself a good cup, and he did offer me some before putting the pot away.

I obviously accepted, since things like sharing a cup of coffee or smoking a cigarette could actually help bonding through negotiations. It created a natural common point between two individuals. However, I made sure to seem hesitant, telling him I didn't want to be a bother. Adults love to hear that, even more when they have children.

"As long you like it?" he half-asked me.

I managed a guilty smile. "Then I suppose I can't resist."

He gave me filled cup, a small smile on his face. "My daughter asked me to taste some, but she didn't really appreciate."

I nodded. "How old is she?"

"Oh, she is 13 years old. I probably have to give her a few more years." He told me, "So, how old are you, Tom? I mean, is it Tom?"

"Yes, sir. Tom works just fine." I confirmed pleasantly. "I'm 15 years old."

Mr. Hebert wasn't able to keep his eyebrows in place. The pair had gone up as he asked me, "You taking care of this year's student funding at Arcadia?"

"Well, I'm a senior, sir."

"I see." He nodded in understanding, "Seems like Arcadia has found their golden egg. Going to university next year? With your age?"

"That's the plan."

"My—I'm trying to picture my little kid going to college in 3 years. Hard to see her leaving, really."

I shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that. No one is equal, and we are all good at something different. I'm sure she can shine when given the chance."

Mr. Hebert was looking at me, nodding as he sipped his cup of coffee. "Exactly," he muttered, "it's important to appreciate people's different strengths. Tell me, Tom, where did you grow up?"

"Close to the docks, or maybe the trainyard depending on who you ask."

Mr. Hebert had a questioning look. Arcadia students didn't usually live in that area.

"I live in an orphanage, sir. Not exactly the kind of life most kids at Arcadia have."

"Certainly not." Mr. Hebert acquiesced, "you've done pretty well for yourself then."

"Hard work, sir, and having people who believe me."

"That's something I remember from my time as a kid that I really underestimate. Having someone you can trust your back with is absolutely instrumental," he said in reminiscence, "a lot take some time to figure that out," looking at his watch, he adjusted his collar. "Well, without further ado, to business?"

What we had to discuss wasn't much, and none of us wanted to make it difficult. I had read Mr. Hebert correctly, and it paid off. He, a union worker, was expecting a rich kid from Arcadia, and maybe the coffee had even been a way for him to relax while having a spoiled brat on his office. Instead, he came to find a polite, smart kid, from a less than favorable background living in one of the worst parts of the city.

And I had found someone I could respect. He was someone with strong values, who defended what he believed in and fought for himself and his workers. He had been betrayed, however, and his lack of spine to cut people off could be one of his obstacles. Be it because he needed to uphold his reputation, or because the rest of his work could become affected, I didn't know. Thus, despite disagreeing with his methods, he sure was a hero, more at least in my eyes than those who hid behind a mask.

After parsing out the budget details, which Mr. Hebert had actually the curiosity to ask me how we hoped to spend, we inevitably let our conversation stray off the intended path. By inevitably, I mean I let the man talk about himself and what his union did, which was something I was perfectly fine with. People love talking about themselves, and I was sure the world would be a better place if there were more listeners around. That was what Alice told me anyway, and at the time she had made perfect sense.

The conversation turned surprising when I mentioned the latest news, about Trueday and the shooting. I was hoping to see if he let anything slip, since I didn't want to risk myself too much. If I used the wand, sure, I didn't need to look at his eyes, but there was a chance he would drop hard on the floor. I still hadn't calibrated myself, and I wanted to avoid as many clues to the PRT as possible. Arcadia security had slightly gone up since my incident in class, not that any of the students really noticed.

"Don't even tell me about it. That gave me quiet the headache this morning." He said with a hand around his temples, "got a worker union injured last night because of that party."

"He was part of the gang?" I asked curiously. The question was indelicate, but I could pass it off as being a kid.

"No." Mr. Hebert waved me off, "for as long as I am here, I'm keeping the gangs out of this union. Problem is his cousin was in, and he was with him at the time. There's no proof he was part of the gang, though, that I assure you."

"Must have been a pain in the ass." I said.

"It was. I keep telling my men to not follow through with violence. To leave the capes to the PRT."

"And they don't?" Obviously, they didn't and hence the news, but I smelled something else here.

"Some people just have a twisted sense of justice. They think you get all parahumans—ah, out of the picture—the city will get better. Seems like that was what the gang last night was doing."

Normal people were going after parahumans. This was it.

This wasn't just the alternative to Shadow Stalker's methods. It was outright the next step, the next stage. Don't execute your version of justice, execute that of a group you represent. Gives you legitimacy while spreading the responsibility thin. Gives you authority and yet for some time anonymity, and afterwards, if you played your cards right you were simply treated as a symptom, and not the cause.

It all depended, however, on which group had your back. Which could then be better than the masses of the middle and poor middle class? It didn't matter if I was at first disrespecting the law. If I bring them victory, the people would allow me to legislate new ones.

A/N: You probably noticed the story doesn't start at the same start as worm. You are correcting in assuming so. This story starts in 2008, as you can see, since Anne Hebert wasn't killed yet and Shadow Stalker is still roaming around with lethal bolts. In fact, she has just begun her career. Furthermore, in 2008, I'm painting the gang picture slightly different that what you are used, as should be expected. History isn't static after all, and this will soon snowball into relevance.


	7. A Cause's Crossfire

**A Cause's Crossfire**

* * *

It was the afternoon of a lazy summer day. It had been three years since coming to this new orphanage, and after all that time, some of us had a bit of a routine on Sunday mornings.

"A1 Rook to A3." Alice said after humming in thought.

I moved the piece for her. She was trying to free up her rook to support her knights on the chessboard. I could see what she was doing, but that didn't make matters as easy as they did before.

"You are taking longer with your turns." She noted with cheek.

"The TV was distracting me," I told her, but I'm sure she didn't believe me.

We were playing in a low table, seated in pillows on the floor between the sofa and the TV, which always ended up stuck in Discovery Channel when Rose had the controller. There were also a few boys from the orphanage around us. Jack, Ricky, and David. They were quiet, in silence as they witnessed the longest game I had ever played, put against the wall by none other than Alice.

She was getting better at the game. While at first her blindness meant she had to first memorize and visualize the board on her own, I realize now that had been but a simple hurdle for her. It had been a few months since she had started practicing, and I would in the beginning remind her of where certain pieces were on the board.

Not only that was absolutely not needed at the present, nowadays I was starting to hope she would forget a couple of positionings. I looked at her again as I measured my next move. Her empty eyes reminded me that everything she had was not here at the open, but inside her head. I couldn't read her, nor her intentions.

I could try to dig her bran for information, of course, but that would be undignified. I couldn't do that—no, better—I didn't need to. A blind girl was nothing for Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Stuck?" Rose chimed in, an annoyingly satisfied smirk settling on her lips.

I shook my head, as I moved my bishop, "E7 Bishop to C5." If she was aiming at getting my last knight caught on the crossfire, I would set up an ambush. "It's fine." —

"Queen to F3."

It wasn't fine. She was cornering me good, and even the foolish boys besides us could see it. Stupid, they were grinning like dogs. Was it so satisfying at seeing me lose a match? I would have my revenge. More chores for them. We need to clean the showers, and it seems I've found three capable pairs of hands.

Nevertheless, there was no need to panic. Retreat was in order, I needed to cut some losses but if I regrouped and positioned myself better, I could make a comeback. "H5 Rook to H2." I needed to open some space, however, to make a successful fall back. Using my Rook with some decent aggressiveness should do the trick because of how the game was organized. Having a few leftover Pawns at the middle was serving me as a nice screen.

But not where I needed.

Not where I thought I had.

Oh no. Oh shit.

She can checkmate.

She can fucking checkmate me.

I looked besides me, I couldn't stop myself, and I saw our three spectators drooling with their mouths open. They had seen it too. My heart ached, and I felt the humiliation kick in. I had never lost in this orphanage. I had a perfect record, and now… now Alice would destroy it.

"F5 Bishop to…"

She was enjoying this.

"…to H3."

What? Why wasn't she checking me? Had she not seen it? I mean, of course she hadn't, but that's not the fucking point. She had a line to follow with her bishop, the opposite way! Was she so focused on my lesser troops? My king was within her grasp, and yet she had not realized the hole I had opened in my defenses. Tunnel vision? Could be, but I could help but wonder if she had forgotten, or lost track of some of her pieces.

I couldn't ask her though. She could realize her mistake and do over. But had she forgotten it? Anyone with a pair of eyes could see how close she was. Even Rose was now staring at the board, no doubt realizing the three boys' reactions by now, but she was silent.

And then Rose looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. At least not at first.

' _I can actually believe you won't say anything, you selfish bastard._ '

I looked away from Rose and back at the board. There was only one way to proceed. "Could you repeat? David Attenborough held my attention there for a second."

"God, when I'm winning you are not even paying attention," she pouted, "F5 Bishop to H3." She told me again firmly.

I moved her piece, taking it off the board and placing it in its final spot with an echoing knock of the wood landing on wood.

Alice gasped, and I could see the horror downing on her.

"Realized it?" I asked her, forcing myself not to smile. That impacted my voice in a way Alice would recognize. I think I managed it.

"I can't do it over, right?" She asked me, her voice already sounding defeated. At the lack of my response, she covered her face with her hands and lied down on the floor besides the table. "This is a dark day. A handed you over a win."

"I'm still at disadvantage." I reminded her, this time not really holding off the satisfaction of dripping over my tone. She took her time to process and returned to the table, but I could see she was frustrated.

That was enough. Her decision making afterwards became clearly affected, and her failure to punish me led me to mount a new defensive strategy. One by one, I was removing her pieces from the board, until it became clear that the tides had turned. Announcing her checkmate, I moved my Bishop into its final square and ended the game.

She was silent for a few seconds before announcing, "I need my cereal," and leaving the living room with as much hurry as a blind person can get. Rose went after her, no doubt ready for any possible damage control in the kitchen. Although rare, Alice had managed to drop milk all over the balcony just last week.

I looked at the three dunderheads that still had their eyes on the chessboard. "If you guys have nothing to do right now, the showers need some cleaning."

Jack waved his hand as he got up after hearing my voice, "I just wasn't ready for history to be made at 10am on Sunday."

"We are on school break." I reminded him.

He shrugged, "Yeah, but its still Sunday. No one's awake yet, and we need them to be for the next time. We need witnesses to record this shit."

"I didn't lose." I reminded him, and my voice almost cracked, much to my distaste. I had to hold myself better.

"Barely," David smiled at me as he left the room. The other two followed him.

I doubted they were on their way to clean their showers, but right now I couldn't really give a damn. I had to study this game. Understand where I had made the first wrong move that had allowed Alice to capitalize and control the flow for most of the game. I took a block of notes from the desk and started writing the moves in chronological order before I forgot them.

"What are you doing?"

Rose had just returned to her spot on the sofa.

"Making sure this doesn't happen again." I explained, my pen writing our game' actions to my brains' best recollection.

I saw Rose looking over her shoulder from the corner of my eye. She leaned close to me then, and her tone was dangerous. At least she was trying to make it so. I personally think it just made her sound constipated.

"Couldn't you've let her win? Was that too much?"

I rolled my eyes, "It was a fair game—"

"Fair game my ass, you can check the board with your own eyes every fucking time, she can't!" she exclaimed in a surprisingly quiet voice, "You know how much it would mean to her getting a win over you."

"I'm not letting her break my record because of charity," I shot, breaking contact with the notes I was taking and turning my eyes to look at Rose. "Alice too wouldn't like to be given a victory. She wants to earn it."

"When's the next tie she will get this close, Tom? She got lucky."

"That's where I disagree. She is getting better—"

"I've never seen you compliment anyone, but sure you do when it protects your god damn record." Rose spoke with frustration.

This was an uphill battle, and I think Rose already her final opinion on the subject. "You might not believe it, but Alice can one day defeat me fair and square. As I've said, no need for charity."

Rose rolled her eyes and went back at watching TV.

Then I woke up.

In my defense, I was slightly disoriented. As I got up, I managed to beat my head against the wall due to a weird angle I found myself in my bed. Despite the pain, that wasn't where my attention was. Alice was crawling on my floor, or at least was. She was now dead silent, probably waiting for me to say something.

I didn't. I was enjoying her anxiety and nervousness.

"Did I wake you up?" She asked gingerly.

"Alice," I called her name and she straight up her back, "What are you doing in my room?"

"I… think I forgot my ring here, last night."

I shook my head. "Ring? Which ring?"

"Ah—John gave me the other day. I have been wearing it too, and if I go to school today without, he might realize it."

"Immaculata is an all girls' school." I spoke out loud, my voice still filled with grogginess.

She seemed hesitant, but she still spoke. "We are going out afterwards."

"Nice." I nodded. I looked around and found my clothes for today already at the hook behind my door, ready to go. Magic was nice.

"Is… everything fine with you?" she asked me.

What was she talking about? I brought my shirt to my nose and I confirmed they weren't smelling like sweat or anything. Was my voice hoarse? Was my nose dripping? Why wouldn't I be fine? I don't even have to wake up earlier now to iron my shirts anymore since magic took care of the deal. It gave me half an hour more of sleep. Best deal ever.

"I'm great." I assured her, leaving my bed and grabbing my clothes. "I will just out my clothes on and see if I can find the ring afterwards."

Alice took that as her leave, closing the door besides her. She didn't really need to leave. She was blind after all, but I could only shrug. Privacy rules are a thing after all.

As I put on the last piece of my clothing, I only needed to glance at my bedside desk to see a ring glinting back at me. I had probably subconsciously swept the floor and put it there while I slept.

I too it in, and as I exited my room, I found Alice there waiting for me.

"Open your hands." I told her, and she raised her eyebrows. I dropped the ring in her palms.

"I suppose it really is easier when you can see."

I scratched my neck, "The fact you can forget about that is, in itself, a greater achievement."

She seemed to stop breathing for a bit before nodding and following down the stairs, her hands on the wall and handrails.

Wait.

I had locked my room last night.

With my wand.

And she got in?

Surprisingly, that wasn't exactly the most interesting part of my day. It had been long, and the sun had finally set. Arcadia was mostly empty, if not for some club activities and, in my case because of the student council duties due to the Halloween party. Today it had been mostly splitting up the space between different clubs and organizations, and although it sounds simple, the fact that every club thinks they are more important than the rest made it a headache.

As we left the gates of the school, we firs heard them. Sirens in the distance, but not from the police. These had a different tone.

"Firefighters?" one of the students in the party committee asked.

"Someone probably just left the oven on."

It was a fair assumption. These parts of Brockton Bay are generally peaceful, wit a lot of wealthy residential areas close by. TO think this was a simple domestic accident was by no means unrealistic.

"No," the president started, his eyes on his smartphone, "Every firetruck in the city is being taken right now. Lung is using his powers!"

"Holy shit! He finally did it." Someone else exclaimed, "How long had he been in Brockton Bay?"

"A few years?"

"Around five-ish. No one is sure."

"What made him do it? What pushed him?" Everyone was on their phones now, trying to find the right source on the internet. I simply stood behind a few people with good phones in order to get answers for myself.

"The Twenty-One. Oh. My. God. He is literally using his powers on a gang with no parahumans."

This was absolutely terrible. The Twenty-One was one of the biggest of the gangs that were expressively against capes. Also, one of the very few left. Lung wasn't just roasting what no doubt were small-timers for him. He was assuring Brockton Bay's underworld that times were changing.

The girl who had caught the information was scrolling down on news, and I managed to catch where it was happening. North of Brockton Bay, between the more abandoned parts of the docks and the poorest suburbs, but by the size of the fire in the pictures… this was a danger to the entire city.

"I gotta go to bathroom, guys." I told them as I walked back to Arcadia. "Just go without me. Will see you tomorrow."

With my unceremonious departure, I proceeded to find an empty bathroom. I checked every stall and made sure I was alone before apparating into my room. I'm sure the cracking sound was loud, but this was an emergency.

Damn it, Lung. This was too soon.

I wasn't ready yet. I still had a few plans to execute and a lot of scouting to make. This was absolutely not fine. That still didn't stop me from taking off my school books from my backpack and putting in my mask, the right collection of maps, a few robes I could transfigure, and a couple of amulets I had enchanted. Hopefully, one of them would protect me from projectiles, but since I hadn't tested it with bullets… I wasn't holding my breath on that one.

I took a good look at my wand afterwards.

"Ready for some magic?"

The wand didn't answer me back, and honestly, I think it is better this way.

I apparated at the roof of the orphanage, which was actually pretty safe. There were no tall buildings close, and the roof's door was always locked. I managed to get a view of the north. The sun had set, but part of the sky was lit, clouds of smoke colored yellow, thanks to the raging fires. Just the amount of horizon that was covered by the smoke and light was enough to tell me I really couldn't back out on this one.

I had to step in, or else, there would be no way for me to get up the ladder. Not unless I worked with other existing gangs, but working with parahumans was… to say the least, undesirable.

There was an old building, quite tall for the north region, being around 11 floors. Everyone knew it was abandoned, so I could perhaps use it as a vantage point, and if my geography wasn't to far wrong, it was located quite closely to where the fight was supposedly happening.

Aiming at around 5 miles north, I looked up and apparated.

I transported myself at around a mile up in the sky, and although I hoped that it would give a good view of where to land and conduct my operations, the smoke made it quite hard to locate any suitable places. Stretching my arms and legs, I made sure to create as much resistance as I could.

I was falling at what must have been hundred miles an hour at least, so I had to make my choice. I managed to find the roof of that single tallish building in the region, the 11 floor one, since it crossed the clouds of smoke. I couldn't see anyone there, so I supposed it could be a start. Depending on how things went, I would change locations later on.

Twisting my body again midair, I apparated myself above the roof, braking my fall with my wand and landing with a gentle roll. I cleaned the dust on my clothes, most of it from the smoke that polluted the air. Now, here close to the action, I could hear all kinds of sirens screaming about, as well the gunshots.

This was becoming a war zone. I had a limited window. For some reason, no superheroes seemed to have showed up yet. Did they not know how to engage Lung? This must be the first time he's engaged with his gang, but everyone has been waiting for this for some time. They must have a drafted plan in some shelve, right? Doesn't matter, the more they took their time, the better for me.

With a few simple spells, I managed to clean the air around the tower in a way that wouldn't look to suspicious. I put on my metal mask, as well as my robes. They transfigured into flexible metal plates, which, with the amulets around my neck, would protect me from most physical injuries.

But not from burning. Lung could still cook me and serve me for dinner with smashed potatoes and a collection of vegetables.

I didn't like this scenario at all, but Twenty-One was a big deal. They had enough of a base start that it wouldn't take long for me to use it for my own ends. Furthermore, if they disappeared overnight… the power vacuum was a scary prospect. I wasn't in a position to take advantage out of it, so it wasn't really an advantage to me. It was, however, to some Nazi and drug dealing gangs which had accrued a few parahumans in the last couple of months.

Until now no one had made a move, and things were quiet. For Lung to suddenly explode like this, it required either a personal stake, or it was part of a greater strategy. Maybe it was a show of force, not just to us, but to his own gang?

I didn't know enough, but I knew something. I felt it. This was the moment I could swoop in and change things. If I failed, it wasn't difficult to make my presence hidden and forgotten. No one expected another player, nor even know me at all. However, if I succeeded… I would be bringing a gang literally back from the dead against all expectations.

And who doesn't like not dying? How many legends are there with men in quests for immortality? How many soldiers will gratefully bow to the general that doesn't get them killed?

My success here will also ensure that my soldiers become innumerous. If I allow even the pettiest human, or any civilian for that matter, to fight back against capes, I would be a gamechanger. Twenty-One, knowingly or not, represents the struggle common men and women have in a world of monsters, in a planet where capes increasingly define our futures. Well, either them, or the Endbringers. It doesn't get any better.

Thus, it was time for that resistance to gather around a symbol. Something that could give them hope, and in turn, they would do anything for it. Just like medieval kingdoms were born out the need for protection, my rule would be born out of their necessity. I was helping them.

I am saving these people.

I extended my arm, my wand at its end, and I thought about the closest member of the Twenty-One.

 _Accio._

What was at first a distant dot soon became a man as my spell brought him closer to me. With a few simple twists, I made him kneel against his will and forced his eyes to stare right back at me. I had no need for subtleties. He was dirty, completely engulfed dirt and soot, and trying his best to resists my control. Overpowering a simple human was but a trivial task.

"Didn't know they another one of you monsters in ABB!" he spat, trying his best to sound brave.

As I gave him little care for his comments, and took sufficient steps forward, grabbing him by his cheek and forcing him to stay quiet.

"You will tell me everything."

How the Twenty-One operated, what were their current resources, who was in the chain of command, what was the current manpower, which tactics they preferred, the current method of communication, and etc. He would obviously be oblivious by more than a few, but every single piece of information was essential in defeating not just the ABB, but Lung.

His scream were disturbing no doubt for those who could hear them, and since they were distracting, I silenced him with a spell as I extracted every bit of information from his mind. After the job was done, I petrified him, just in case I needed something I hadn't know about before. War was a tricky business after all.

I accioed his radio, which had been beeping for a while now, and unmuted.

" _We need support at the 45th Street! They got the two compounds across Midway Road!_ "

With some twists of my wand, my maps were extended on the floor besides me. It was time for the most important chess game of my life, yet.


	8. Addressing This Story's Reviews

NOT A STORY CHAPTER – COMING SECOND HALF OF MAY

I'm happy to have some criticism from reviews. A guest provided some insightful comments, and I agree with a lot of issues he pointed out. Addressing the problems will take time, and I decided to post them in order to tell you why. (I'm not posting positive reviews, but know that I read and appreciate them. They do help keeping me writing. I do want people to enjoy this). Here follows the comments and my thoughts on them:

 **If it's supposed to establish sympathy or understanding for Riddle it does not. If it's supposed to make him look like a brain damaged psychopath, it does. The problem with that is most of the time people with damaged or defective brains cannot recover and change. You showed Riddle as he would be believable in becoming Voldemort. Someone that damaged is not really able to change. They don't want to change. A Tom Riddle as messed up as you showed would never be able to or desire becoming any type of hero. The whole point of someone like that hurting the cat directly and the kids mentally is that true psychopaths have no empathy or desire to understand other people. They think it's all stupid and something for them to take advantage of.**

I do not believe anyone should be feeling empathy for Tom Riddle at this point. I'm happy I could pass that to my readers. This story starts following a person that can become one of the most vicious wizards of all time, precisely because that person is not normal (in the head). I completely agree with you. Tom Riddle cannot become a good person just like that, and the younger he is, the closer he is to JK' Tom Riddle. I will develop this thought later.

 **Also, the way you portrayed the younger kid and Riddle did not seem very realistic for two guys at that age and in that situation. if Riddle knew he was stronger than the other kid he would have hit the younger kid the first time when the kid threatened him. It was not a realistic portrayal of how two guys fight or handle that situation.**

As the days passed, the less 'satisfied' (I never was, but felt like I needed to release the chapter) I was about how I wrote the other kids. I will address this and change accordingly.

 **Ok, now this seemed stupid. Riddle did nothing wrong as far as the orphanage knows. For Riddle to be declared a delinquent because of a fight that he did not start, is absurd. Boys fight all the time especially in an institutional setting. Almost every boy in there would be declared a delinquent if your rule is followed. If the other kid threw the first punch Riddle was defending himself. The other kid is the one who looks like the loose canon. This is an old style orphanage setting. This is not some modern school with a claimed zero tolerance for fighting where everyone gets punished. He beat the crap out of the other kid. From the administrators perspective the other kid was asking for it by looking crazy enough to start a fight with an older kid. If the investigate then the other kid looks crazy for accusing Riddle of killing the cat when Riddle had arrange for a good alibi.**

Yeah, I think you are right. This chapter really shows my lack of experience with this setting, and the fact I tried to reach a certain set of points in just two chapters didn't help at all. This will also be addressed at the next changes.

 **Sophia was the same age as Taylor. You have her running around as an independent hero shooting people with live crossbow bolts at 13? Not saying it's impossible but it seems a little hard to believe.**

This is canon. Sophia triggered in 2007, Sophia and Emma had their incident in the Summer of 2009 and Taylor triggers in 2011. Since this story happens 2008-2009, this is pretty much when Shadow Stalker would have started her career, although I will admit I'm being less than accurate about when exactly it happened.

 **Yeah, if you're not familiar with it, you should google what a psychopath is and their characteristics. If you read them, you'll see it's what JKR patterned Riddle after. Unlike what your AN says, these are people who cannot change because they literally have something wrong in their brain. They also do not want to change. They think they are right about their outlook on the world. They think other people are stupid and deserve it. The idea that all they need is some love or attention is where you really seem to misunderstand things. If they were normal people then sure you'd be right but the problem is normal people don't think about the world and other people the way psychopaths do.**

This might seem strange, but I do agree with you. I'm definitely having trouble in putting myself in Riddle's shoes, as well as properly signaling what is causing him to 'change'. It is not the same emotional gain others feel. It is much closer to fulfilling his interests, and he craves being superior to everyone else. Thus, if wants to prove that to himself, he must be able to have what everyone else has, because every psychopath wants to have more power and control over others.

I will take an example of the story, such as Riddle wanting people to keep him company on the walk home after school: he doesn't actually enjoy the company, in the same sense he doesn't actually enjoy 'having friends'. He is envious because others have things he doesn't, and we have seen in canon that he has no qualms about stealing and hurting people to get what he wants. Problem is, when you are aiming at having people close to you, you sorta need to know how to navigate people's feelings. In canon, it becomes clear that Tom went through this to get the things he wanted. We know from book canon that Tom Riddle learned about the utility of different masks, so he must have felt consequences that made him realize that he needed to do things in a more subtle way to not be caught.

This entire story is based in the one in a million chance (or fourteen million if you think this is harder to happen than defeating Thanos) that Tom Riddle deals with the right consequences at the right times in the right places in order for him to tend to a goodish human being. He doesn't start that way though, this story is how he gets there, and he starts very much at the same starting point as canon Riddle. He faces certain situations that make him realize, in a very cold way, that are better ways to get the things he wants. By consequences (that is, feeling the burn), because sure as heck no one can actually convince Tom he is wrong by force of argument, Tom will become 'better' because he will start failing at his objectives in a way that, whe he adjusts himself, he coincidentally becomes a better person. Not because he wants to, but because luckily that's what happened.

Right now, I'm the first one to say that he is a terrible person. You might be wondering now, why the hell does Alice stick close him, and why Tom ever felt any connection to Alice. Without spoiling things too much (skip the rest of this paragraph if you don't want to know this): by a set of coincidences, Alice did things in the beginning that Tom didn't believe to be possible. For a mind of a child, he saw Alice's independence as simply impossible for a blind girl (remember, Tom doesn't know about the actual idea of magic yet, just that he can do the impossible, so the official wall between wizard and muggle doesn't exist). With time, however, he would come to realize her limitations. Now you ask, why hasn't that happen? It is because his magic is subconsciously helping Alice to overcome normal barriers, which in turn further reinforces Tom's view that Alice 'could be a witch' (or in simpler terms, _almost_ an equal to Tom). You can see here a snowball effect. In turn, Alice feels better when she is around Tom. And since Tom sees Alice as this impossibility, he wonders what she could if she wasn't blind. Of course, he would never help her in that way, because that could mean helping someone else compete against him. But doesn't he love her? Heh, its complicated. Call it tends more to possessive feelings than love, although that hasn't yet been clearly shown. This story definitely needs more chapters. These are enough spoilers.

The fact I have had to write this tells me two things: the backstory chapters I wrote are not good enough at passing my message to my readers adequately, and that I should actually write maybe a couple more to expand on Tom's character. I think I should have one which particularly tackles why Alice was able to tame Tom, or better, why does Tom have any sort of 'empathy' with her despite being a book case of psychopath. This will take a while. I'm not a good writer, and this would demand some nuance which I'm not sure I have even with my first language.

I'm really divided on this, because the younger and the more unaffected by Alice Tom is harder to write too. The closer he is to the original Tom Riddle, the ore he is closer to a terrible person. This may, however, provide a better understanding of his character, not just to you guys, but to myself as well. This is why I will take some time for my next update, which I expect to happen in the second part of May.


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